“This is an emergency situation. We have encountered a nest of dragonflies. All hands report to the bridge in 5 minutes. This is an emergency situation. We have encountered a nest of dragonflies. All hands report to the bridge in 5 minutes. This is an emergency situation-”
Red flashing lights lit the bronzed halls of the Sleipnir. The intra-ship radio system’s shrill buzzing resonated in Dirk’s skull. Dirk could already smell the dangerous chemicals that the untamed sky possessed.
Dirk’s baton was attached to his hip, and as he marched through the Sleipnir’s halls he pulled his rebreather over his face. The sweet tint of poison was abruptly replaced by the heady scent of leather. Dirk sprinted up the stairs, amidst the swell of his crewmates, bodies pressing against him and each other as they rushed to the bridge.
When the reached the top, the disorderly sprint naturally transitioned into an orderly march as the assembled crew took their positions on the bridge. Arrayed in regiment, Dirk looked up at the small podium the Captain was overlooking them from, sweating slightly from the proximity he had to his coworkers.
“Shift A, you’re on duty. Shift B will supplement the Ark II as an infantry force to help protect the passengers. Shift C, squad 1 and 3 will assist with the repulsion of hostiles from the Horn’s hull. Move out!”
Dirk left with the rest of squad C1, back through a door opposite the one they had entered from, where he and his dozen squadmates changed into their sky harnesses. The collection of belts always felt overly tight and awkward, but Dirk knew that the public harnesses had to be adjustable for anyone and that just meant that it wasn’t going to fall off. Gunners don’t need a harness to do their jobs, after all- the turrets themselves had belts to keep their users attached- and so Dirk was unlikely to ever see one.
As a unit, Dirk and his squad boarded a gyrocopter and took off to cover the short gap between the Sleipnir and Horn O’ Plenty.
Red flashing lights lit the bronzed halls of the Sleipnir. The intra-ship radio system’s shrill buzzing resonated in Dirk’s skull. Dirk could already smell the dangerous chemicals that the untamed sky possessed.
Dirk’s baton was attached to his hip, and as he marched through the Sleipnir’s halls he pulled his rebreather over his face. The sweet tint of poison was abruptly replaced by the heady scent of leather. Dirk sprinted up the stairs, amidst the swell of his crewmates, bodies pressing against him and each other as they rushed to the bridge.
When the reached the top, the disorderly sprint naturally transitioned into an orderly march as the assembled crew took their positions on the bridge. Arrayed in regiment, Dirk looked up at the small podium the Captain was overlooking them from, sweating slightly from the proximity he had to his coworkers.
“Shift A, you’re on duty. Shift B will supplement the Ark II as an infantry force to help protect the passengers. Shift C, squad 1 and 3 will assist with the repulsion of hostiles from the Horn’s hull. Move out!”
Dirk left with the rest of squad C1, back through a door opposite the one they had entered from, where he and his dozen squadmates changed into their sky harnesses. The collection of belts always felt overly tight and awkward, but Dirk knew that the public harnesses had to be adjustable for anyone and that just meant that it wasn’t going to fall off. Gunners don’t need a harness to do their jobs, after all- the turrets themselves had belts to keep their users attached- and so Dirk was unlikely to ever see one.
As a unit, Dirk and his squad boarded a gyrocopter and took off to cover the short gap between the Sleipnir and Horn O’ Plenty.